ReDBZ: Season One
by Spop
Summary: The evil Frieza was defeated, but Goku hasn't been seen or heard from since. Two years later, Gohan and the other Z-Fighters struggle to maintain their lives without their greatest idol. Now, a Tournament is coming that may offer the Z-Fighters familiar comfort. But without Goku present, Earth is vulnerable, and an old enemy plans to capitalize... Read/Review.
1. PROLOGUE

The planet was dying. War had been born on Namek, child to the tyrant Frieza and the savior that opposed him. Goku had been the hero's name, and he stood proudly as both an idol of peace and as the vessel carrying an entire galaxy's thirst for vengeance. But more than that, Goku had been a father. Even now, asleep in his home, Gohan could see his dad in his dreams. The boy could only imagine what those final moments had been like, with avatars of two colliding ideals at each other's throat. Goku would have tried to spare the reptilian ruler. But could that have cost him? He could see Frieza, standing triumphant over the wounded Goku, finger aimed at the hero's chest. The tyrant would show no mercy. He'd charge his ki, like a bullet loading into its barrel, and...

"No!" Gohan shouted, suddenly upright in his bed, fists clenched.

His mother burst through his door not a second later. She called his name, looking around the room as if expecting an intruder. There was no one, of course. There hadn't been the last ten times she heard the same desperate cry from her son's bedroom. Only text books and moonlight...

"Mom..." Gohan sighed, embarassed and riddled with guilt. Chi-Chi had barely slept a night in the last two years, since Goku got left behind... He felt cruel, adding to the dark bags under her eyes by stirring her with these damned nightmares.

Chi-Chi sat on the bed beside him, already knowing what Gohan had to say. She could only whisper now, sadness tightening her throat as she embraced the boy. "It's okay..."

Two and a half years, now... Goku had brought peace, undoubtedly, but what damage had he done to his friends and family? Chi-Chi couldn't remember the last time she'd seen Bulma, Krillin, or their other allies. Gohan stopped training. Piccolo went into seclusion... It felt as if, without Goku there to hold them together, they'd all abandoned one another...

...

But there was something, just on the horizon. A chance to change all that.

An opportunity to reunite the Z-Fighters.

STAY TUNED!

#ReDBZ : Season One premieres soon!


	2. Episode One

EPISODE ONE: People's Champion

The room smelled of piss and old alcohol. How a luxury hotel suite could be reduced to such a disaster was beyond any sober understanding. There were two girls, each half-naked although not necessarily missing the same articles of clothing, unconscious at the foot of the large bed. Empty bottles, spilled drinks, and broken glass littered the carpet. Who knew exactly what kind of powder residue was scattered atop the bedside table.

Alone in the bed, despite his obvious company, was the man who was supposed to have been awake and in the lobby twenty minutes ago.

"You've got to be kidding me..." The man's manager stood in the doorway to the suite, looking on and doing his best to be shocked by the scene before him. In truth, this hadn't been the first time he'd come across such a display. It certainly wouldn't be the last this man contributed to, either.

"Get up." The manager elected to drag the two women to their feet first, swatting them out of the room with only as many clothes as they could grab on the way. Then, carefully navigating the minefield that the floor had become, he turned his attention...

"Hercule. You're late."

The champion squirmed atop his sheets, reaching for a blanket that wasn't there. Who the hell had turned the sun on? "Ugh," he groaned audibly, shielding his eyes with a hairy forearm as his manager pulled the blinds back further. "Terrible stomach ache, not gonna make it."

"We used that excuse three times last month. Unless we start making public trips to the emergency room, no one's going to buy it."

"Who cares," Hercule sighed, finally pulling himself to an upright position. His head was pounding. "The people will eat up whatever I feed 'em."

"That's hardly the ideal attitude for a world-class fighter." The manager had moved on to tossing bottles into a garbage bag, not needing another law suit from a pissed off hotel owner.

World-class? The champion clenched his jaw, fingers moving to rub his scalp. He could barely feel the massage beneath his thick head of hair. Why the hell wasn't he allowed to cut it, again? Big hair, a loud mouth and a cape: the formula worked. But shit, a trim would go a long way every now and then...

"Shower. We've got your wardrobe in the limo." Now the skinny, suited man was sweeping the mess from the table with the flat of his hand. "Capsule Corp. and those MUSCLE guys aren't going to want a spokesman with an entourage of body odor."

Hercule froze suddenly. His heart had skipped a beat. It was time for that tournament, already? He, less than half the fighter he pretended to be... "Fuck."

"What's the matter now?"

"N-nothing. I just..." Hercule trailed off, eyes fixated on the bathroom door. "Need that shower. That's all..."

The manager looked on curiously. That behavior wasn't normal. What exactly did the champion know, that he didn't?

"I want Videl on the line when I get out."

"She's in school, sir. Miss Elliot won't appreciate you - "

"I don't care! I need to talk to her." Hercule shut the door behind him just as he finished the statement. This shower would be the last moment he had to feel guilty, after that, it was too late...

# # #

It was Capsule Corp's anniversary weekend. To celebrate, they'd be co-hosting the biggest tournament the world had seen to date. Paid in part by the upcoming fitness researchers, MUSCLE Inc, and featuring the biggest guest host in the world, Hercule Satan. The winner of the tournament would have a shot at the champion himself, as well as a prize of one million zeni, win-or-lose. But before Sunday's grand finale, sign-ups and qualifying rounds had to take place.

Hundreds of combatants, famed and unknown alike, had gathered to the trio of massive tents that had been put up on the outskirts of West City. For many, it was a chance to finally prove themselves to be valid fighters. Others were looking solely for a way to score some money. The select few, saw this as a reunion, above all else...

"Bulma!"

The blue-haired heir of Capsule Corp heard that familiar voice, but where was it coming from? She peeked her head around a few passerbys, balancing an infant in her arms... Where was..? "Krillin!" She finally called back, spotting her short friend behind the massive body of another fighter.

He ran, a small orange blur as he navigated towards her. Krillin's smile grew wider the closer he drew, white teeth shining nearly as bright as his bald head. It had been so long! Something was different now, though. Krillin stopped just as he got within reach, halting on the tips of his feet as he stared wide-eyed. "You had a baby!?"

Bulma chuckled a bit, looking down to her naturally grey-haired son. "Yep! He's almost a year old, now."

"Wow..." Krillin let out a breath of amazement. He'd known Bulma for so long! To see her as a mom... It was weird, to say the least. He reached up to rub the back of his head, grinning. "Guess I won't be asking you out today, after all."

She laughed, knowing this was Krillin's way of giving compliments. "Yeah," Trunks bounced up and down on Bulma's hip as she talked, "now's probably not the best time."

"I think I'm more upset that Yamcha won our bet!" He continued, beaming.

"What bet?" Bulma suddenly looked at Krillin quizzically. This was the first time she'd heard of such a thing.

"He didn't tell you?" Krillin returned his own surprised expression. "We've had a running bet for years now: which of us would start a family first!"

Her eyes widened. "Yamcha's got a kid, too?!"

Now Krillin shook his head. This was becoming too much! How wasn't she understanding? "That's his kid!" He pointed at Bulma's son. "...isn't it?"

"Oh!" Bulma gasped, before regaining her previous smile. "Trunks isn't Yamcha's, Krillin."

Krillin just paused, now totally lost. He couldn't even crack a joke about the boy's name - Trunks, really? Bulma had found a new boyfriend! And had a child with him within the last two years? Things certainly had changed! He didn't ever think she'd move that fast... Oh well. He tried to settle himself down. It could always be worse.

"It's Vegeta's!"

Krillin fell onto his back, staring up in shock. Now, that... That was worse.

# # #

"I don't know, mom..." Gohan was sitting at his desk, gazing out his open window. Chi-Chi was behind him, arms crossed and looking at her son with hope in her eyes.

"Your father would have never passed up this opportunity." She smiled softly, despite Gohan being unable to see her. "Let alone after I'd given permission." With that, her eyes glowed. It was easy to remember Goku's face...

"A tournament, mom?" Beside the other Z-Fighters or not, this wouldn't bring his father home.

"Come on," Chi-Chi almost begged, "you've barely gotten any exercise. All that studying will be for nothing if you can't get up to go to school!"

"I study at home." Gohan couldn't help but let an attitude slip out. This was all too frustrating.

Chi-Chi ignored it. "College isn't that far, sweetie."

Gohan groaned. First his mother was encouraging him to go fight in a world tournament, something she usually forbid, now he was going to be getting a college lecture? She was going to drive him crazy.

"At least go see the others."

# # #

"So you're telling me that's Vegeta's son?" Yamcha looked at the child in disbelief. He, Tien, and Chiaotzu had all come across Bulma as she did her best to pick Krillin up from the ground.

"He has his eyes!" Chiaotzu was levitating just a few inches from Trunks' face, who was looking back with a wild expression at what seemed to be a flying doll.

"As long as he doesn't have his temper," Krillin hadn't managed much beyond sarcasm since his recovery.

It was Tien's turn to speak. "Where is Vegeta, anyhow?"

At that, Bulma revealed the first frown of the day. "I haven't seen him... Every day he seemed to be getting worse. Madder and more irritable. Like he couldn't accept that Goku's..."

"Missing." Krillin turned from the rest of the group. He couldn't help but finish Bulma's statement. Knowing that the rest of them had already heard 'dead'... It hurt, just imagining that his best friend...

As if to break the silence that had quickly brewed between the Z-Fighters, a sudden ringing of trumpets flooded in from the distance. "Oh!" Bulma jumped, having lost track of time, "That's it! Come on!" The four men followed swiftly behind her as she scurried towards the center stage. "I've got to make sure this speech goes well! Dad spent too much money for Hercule to drop the ball."

# # #

The champion closed his cell phone, looking out at the arena he was scheduled to enter in just a few moments. He had just needed to try, one more time. He still hadn't spoken to Videl, and it was bothering him. Knowing her, she'd be finding a way to watch this speech anyhow - his biggest fan. But he wanted to talk to her, as her father, not as this persona...

"Without further ado, we at MUSCLE Inc, in celebration of the wonderful and irreplaceable Capsule Corp, present your grand champion..." A thin, brittle-looking man with a tall hat and a long head of wiry hair called out from the middle of the stage. He was the head of MUSCLE, but ultimately irrelevant beyond that.

"MISTER SATAN!"

Hercule stepped out from the curtains, raising his arms and letting out a loud bellow, perfectly on cue. His hair and make-up were spot-on, cape bright and flailing behind him in the strong wind. A lot of time had gone into constructing this entrance. It was time to give all the people what they desired... Their champion.


End file.
